


only sweeter

by itsforscience



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-15
Updated: 2010-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-08 00:25:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsforscience/pseuds/itsforscience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt: "Patrick and Pete get into a fight over something stupid and Pete cuts off sex. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	only sweeter

So, it was about a song. It wasn't like one of their big, "serious" fights over their own music. No. It was about a fucking _Britney Spears_ song. 

Patrick can't even remember what the fight was _about_, maybe something about lyrics? Or when the song came out? Whatever. All he knows is that Pete's an _asshole_ that doesn't know when to admit he's very, very _wrong_. And when Pete said, "Okay, fine. I'm cutting off sex," and Patrick scoffed and said, "Yeah right, like you would." the rest was relatively recent history.

Right now, Patrick's hating his brain a lot, because he just _had_ to pose it as a challenge - a _challenge_! To _Pete_ for fuck's sake. And now, here he is, jerking off in a gross gas station bathroom. Well, trying to anyway, the smell's definitely not doing him any favors, and he's trying not to touch anything or lean against the wall because there's some weird sticky shit all over _everywhere_ that he does _not_ even want to think about.

He's not even _hard_, but he's been really on edge lately and getting distracted and screwing up at shows (all things that are Pete's fault). So he figured rubbing one out would help. Except now that he's finally alone, it's not. _working_.

Patrick sighs and almost - _almost_ - bangs his head against the wall before taking his hand out of his pants and zipping them back up. Lost cause.

Until he gets back to the van and finds Pete leaning against it, shirtless and sweaty, talking to Andy. Pete notices him and waves goofily, Andy joins in, and then Joe leans his head out of his window and yells, "You were gone for like, eight hours!"

Patrick laughs a little nervously and goes straight to the back of the van. Fuck his dick and its bad timing. They're going to be on the road for _hours_ now.

"Hey," Pete says as he hops in over the equipment, sitting down right next to Patrick.

"Hey," Patrick says slowly, trying to think unsexy thoughts.

"_Oh_." Pete sounds a little breathless. Patrick looks at him and finds that Pete's staring directly at his crotch. Shit. "Well," Pete says, his hands fidgeting in his lap. "I'm not doing anything about it?"

Patrick smirks. Stubborn as Pete may be, his resolve is shaky at the best of times. And Patrick knows that right now is definitely not one of those times. He angles his body a little more towards Pete.

"You could if you wanted," Patrick offers with wide, innocent eyes.

Pete stares at him with big eyes of his own, glancing from Patrick's eyes to his crotch before getting up and yelling, "Hey Andy, I'm driving!"

Patrick smiles.  
***

There's a lot they would do for a real bed, _a lot_. No one one knows how bad life is without a mattress until you don't sleep on one for about a year. And sure, they have a thin one at the back of the van, but you can still feel the floor through it, also, nobody remembered to pack pillows so that's a definite bonus.

Patrick wakes up with a sore neck and a numb leg and something pressing against his ass.

Wait.

He tries to turn his head but it _kills_ so he can only hope that it's Pete and not one of the other guys (because _that_ would be awkward). 

An arm with some familiar tattoos wraps around his chest, confirming that it's Pete. Patrick yawns and closes his eyes to the early_early_ morning sun, he's just about to fall back asleep. About to.

Pete starts humping his ass. They haven't done anything for like a _week_, so there's no way Patrick's passing this up.

They're both wearing jeans, so it's not as good as it could be but it's _something_ and Patrick starts moving back against him. Pete grunts against his ear, his hand clutching at Patrick's shirt.

"_Patrick_," he says in a rough, low voice. His hand moves to Patrick's hip, gripping tightly.

Mostly they're quiet, just heavy breathing and Pete rocking their hips together. But when Patrick says his name, gasps, "_Pete_," he rolls away so fast Patrick almost rolls with him.

Pete starts fake-snoring and Patrick frowns. "Hey, what--"

"Night, Rick," Pete says tightly, lying with his back to Patrick now, like nothing happened.

Patrick blinks for a few seconds before he whispers sharply, "_Fuck you, too_."

_And fuck van rules_, he thinks, turning on his side and sticking his hand down his pants. He's mostly quiet for Joe and Andy's sake, but he knows Pete's listening closely when he moans. He feels hot breath against the back of his neck right before he comes.  
***

Twelve hours. Twelve hours in the van. They got in this van during the day and now it's fucking 11pm at night. Twelve hours. Joe's been saying he's going to jump out the van if they don't get there soon. Andy bet Pete he wouldn't, Pete bet he'd only last up to fourteen hours.

If Joe doesn't shut up soon though, Patrick might end up _throwing_ him out.

"_Oh_ my god, these trees," Joe drawls, his forehead pressed against the window. "These are the same trees we saw three hours ago."

Patrick closes his eyes. "No they're not, Joe."

"They are! Exactly the same as the last ones, dude."

Patrick's head is throbbing. Joe would fit through the window. "_Dude_\--"

"Gas station!" Andy announces, and as soon as the van stops they all practically _leap_ out. Patrick thinks he saw Pete kiss the ground. 

Now that's he's not stuck in a screaming metal death trap with them though, he can remember that he actually likes his band and doesn't want to kill any of them. It puts him in a good mood.

He goes in to buy some essential foods for them. Like candy and chips and soda. Yeah, definitely essential.

  
***

They're staying at a motel, one room, two beds and bored out of their fucking minds.

Patrick's sitting at the edge of his and Pete's bed, sucking on a lollipop. The TV's got sucky reception so Andy's adjusting the antenna. Joe passed out from the waiting. Patrick's sucking on a raspberry lollipop he bought earlier, making small "hmm" and "uh uh" sounds whenever Andy asks him if the picture's showing up, but he's not really paying all that much attention.

Right now, he's a lot more interested in Pete, who's curled up on his side next to him on the bed, watching. 

Patrick almost asks what he's staring at, but he thinks he's got a pretty good idea.

He pulls out the lollipop with a slick pop.

Pete's mouth falls open a little.

"Jeez, why is the picture not coming up?" Andy frowns and pounds the top of the TV a few times.

Joe snorts and wakes up, startled. "Phone!"

"No Joe," Andy says, holding the antenna high above his head.

Patrick sucks hard on the lollipop, pretending like he doesn't notice Pete clenching his fists in the sheets.

When Patrick pulls it out again he hears Pete swallow, he sticks his tongue out to lick it and Pete curls in around him closer.

"This is fucking shit." Andy drops the antenna and pounds the TV again. Joe laughs.

Patrick rubs the lollipop against his lips, making them wet and sticky before sucking it back into his mouth.

Pete sits up. "Okay, Andy? Why don't you go to the front desk and ask for help or something?"

Andy shrugs and goes for the door. "Couldn't hurt."

Pete jumps off the bed and grabs Joe's arm, dragging him out the door. "Take him with you," he says, "for, um..."

"Moral support?" Patrick offers.

"Exactly," Pete nods and slams the door, locking it.

Patrick shifts a little on the bed, he says, "What's up?"

Pete narrows his eyes and walks back to him. "You're _evil_."

Patrick exaggerates being shocked for a second before licking the lollipop very, _very_ suggestively.

Pete groans and jumps him, pushes him down on his back and takes the lollipop out of his hand. Pete gives the lollipop one small lick before popping it back into Patrick's mouth, slowly pushing it in and out.

Patrick moans, tightens his lips around it. 

Eventually Pete gets sick of watching and throws the lollipop over his shoulder somewhere before bending down. He bites Patrick's lower lip, groaning and sucking on it until his lips are sugary and sticky too. He stops for a second before leaning in again, kissing Patrick hard and deep before pulling back.

Patrick's about to ask why, until Pete's tugging at him to turn over, that's when he catches on. 

Patrick has to slide down a little, till his knees hit the floor and he's sort of leaning over the bed. Pete presses against his back and wraps his arms around his waist, fumbling to unzip Patrick's jeans and pull them down at the same down.

Patrick's thinking that Pete probably already lost his own pants, and probably his shirt. The fucker can be quick when he wants to be (thank god). 

"Wait," Pete says, pulling away again.

Patrick waits a little awkwardly for a few minutes until Pete comes back, kneeling behind him and tugging his underwear down, pulling them off along with his pants.

"You're ready, right 'Trick? You're ready," Pete breathes against his ear. And no, he's not ready, actually. When Pete pushes one slick finger in it hurts a little because it's been too long, and yet it's still kind of fucking _good_. Something he's really missed in the, what, two weeks of abstinence? Almost two weeks, anyway.

Patrick pushes his hips back and hisses when Pete all of a sudden slips in a second finger. He's working it in too quick, too rough and all Patrick can do is gasp. Pete mouths against his temple, "Sorry, sorry, _fuck_," but he doesn't slow down. Patrick tries to adjust, he bites his lip and angles himself a bit differently so that it's more comfortable.

Then Pete starts trying to push a third finger in and that's a no, way too soon. Patrick cries out and drops his head. "_Pete_\--"

"I know, I know." Pete stops and breathes heavily against the side of Patrick's face, his cock nudging the back of his thigh and Patrick starts nodding before he knows it, turns his head a little so their lips can touch.

"Okay," Patrick says, and Pete starts moving his fingers again. "Okay."

Pete's impatient, Patrick knows. And he knows that really it's _Pete's own fucking fault_ for holding out for so long, but Patrick's pretty impatient right now, too. He doesn't want to wait anymore than Pete does.

Pete starts biting and sucking at his neck, mumbling all the things that he wants to do to Patrick, fucking him faster with his fingers. Patrick whimpers when Pete brushes against _that_ spot inside him, thinks he could come just like this until Pete suddenly pulls his fingers out. Patrick groans at the loss, wants his fingers back when suddenly Pete's _dick_ is right there, pressing against his hole.

They usually do this part slow, Pete usually takes his time and tries to be _extremely_ careful, but not tonight. He pushes in quickly, already more than halfway in and Patrick moans long and low, practically clawing at the sheets.

Pete stills and starts rubbing Patrick's sides, just circular motions until he starts scratching him, leaving light red lines on Patrick's skin.

Patrick nods again and feels Pete kiss the back of his neck, hears him whisper, "Patrick," before he grabs his hips and starts fucking him. Patrick cries out again and throws his head back against Pete's shoulder. 

Pete keeps whispering at him, things like "you're beautiful" or "you're amazing" and Patrick has no doubt in his mind that Pete believes that, but _he_ doesn't believe it so he finds himself instead focusing on the ache in his knees and the serious rug burn he's getting from the carpet. And the dick up his ass, for sure.

"I'll make you believe it someday," Pete says, and Patrick wonders if maybe Pete can read minds, or just knows him that well.

Pete moves down a little, so that Patrick's half in his lap and half leaning on the bed. "Come on," Pete says, Patrick gets the idea and starts moving, fucking himself onto Pete's dick.

"_Fuck._" Pete kisses his back, and Patrick hears a tiny echo in his mind that's grossed out by that, because he's all sweaty and his shirt's all sweaty and Pete kissed it. But he completely forgets about that when Pete grabs his hips and starts forcing him to move faster. "Fuck, Patrick, _fuck_."

"That's what you seem to be doing, yes," Patrick says a little breathlessly, but he can't help if he sounds a little smug too.

"_Yes_," Pete says and wraps a hand around Patrick's cock at the same time he starts hitting his prostate.

"_Shit_." Patrick squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to scream. Pete has some pretty fucking _amazing_ timing with sex.

"God, 'Trick." Pete sounds like he's on the edge, thrusting harder and faster.

"Same person, right?" And Patrick has _no idea_ how he managed that when his thoughts are just basically _jkfdhghjlkfd_ right now.

Pete laughs, his voice all hoarse and rough and _fuck_ if that alone doesn't almost make Patrick come. 

"Fucking love you," Pete says, and it's so sweetly honest that it throws Patrick for a bit and he doesn't know what to say.

"Pete--" He tries, just as Pete tightens his grip on Patrick's cock and jerks him off in time with his thrusts. "Fuck," Patrick swears. Pete swipes his thumb over the head of Patrick's cock and that makes him lose it. "_Pete_." Patrick draws out his name as he comes, moaning and panting and still bouncing in Pete's lap.

Pete thrusts a few more times before he comes too, digging his fingers hard into Patrick's hip and biting his shoulder, muffling his moans into his shirt.

It takes a while for them to come down, panting and laughing a little until Patrick starts getting _really_ uncomfortable and lifts up so that Pete's cock slides out of him. 

Pete grabs his shirt off the floor and cleans himself with it, then stands and cleans Patrick up too, smirking for no good reason. Patrick rolls his eyes and kisses him on the cheek.

Then there's a knock on the door. "Are you two finished having gay sex?" Joe yells.

"Yeah," Pete says, throwing the shirt to the corner of the room. "But we're naked so don't come in."

"We can't, you locked the door," Andy deadpans.

Patrick finds his jeans and pulls them on. "Actually," he says, "now it's just Pete that's naked."

Pete sticks his tongue out at him and gets under the covers of their bed. "Cheater." 

Patrick goes to open the door. "Don't worry, his naked body is covered now, your eyes are safe" he assures Joe and Andy.

Andy and Joe are wary as they step into the room, watching Pete cautiously. Pete just smiles at them as they head over to their bed, then yells, "Surprise!" and throws up the covers.

"My eyes!" Andy cries. Joe just taps his chin and says, "Yes, there's definitely the scent of gay sex in the air, hey, why is there a lollipop on my pillow?"

Patrick hopes like hell that he's not blushing too hard and just says, "How do you know what gay sex smells like, Trohman?" And gets under the covers with Pete, snuggling close together, well, clos_er_ on a single.

Joe starts ranting about the similarities of straight sex and gay sex, while completely disregarding vaginas. 

Patrick smiles at Pete and says, "Hey, just so you know, I love you a lot."

Pete smiles wide and leans in, licking Patrick's cheek and grinning as he says, "You're my favorite lollipop."


End file.
